


Last Night Heard My Own Heart Beating (Sounded Like Footsteps On My Stairs)

by kycantina



Category: Naruto
Genre: Don't worry tho, Dreams and Nightmares, Excessive tea drinking, Getting Back Together, Insomnia, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:40:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23354077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kycantina/pseuds/kycantina
Summary: Iruka sighs. “What do you want? Tea? Closure?”Kakashi gives him a puzzled look. “To talk, mostly. Can’t sleep.”“So you came here?” Iruka runs a hand through his hair, exhaustion tugging at his fingers, the corners of his eyes.“Where else?”
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka
Comments: 10
Kudos: 94
Collections: Iruka's Birthday Shiritori 2020





	Last Night Heard My Own Heart Beating (Sounded Like Footsteps On My Stairs)

_ He knocked on the door, nerves coursing through his body. There was a muffled yell, and a loud thump, and then the locks were turning, and the door started to open, and- _

And then Iruka woke up, in a cold sweat, alone in bed. He can’t help but smile, blush at the memory. His Kakashi, clumsy as ever, cute too. God, he’d been so nervous when they’d started out, shaky hands knocking on doors or holding Kakashi’s. Iruka sits up, shoulders sagging with exhaustion, hair hanging loose around his shoulders. The clock on his bedside table reads 2:47, he may as well get some work done, right? 

His pathetic stack of ungraded papers sits next to the kettle, a testament to too many late nights and early mornings. He flips the kettle’s switch, only slightly comforted by the bubbling sounds of boiling water. Iruka tries to focus on the feeling of his calloused fingers against the mug, the teabag, tries to simplify everything down into the planes of pale blue morning light diffusing through his kitchen windows. He thinks about Kakashi (even though he shouldn’t), the way Kakashi would follow him out of bed on nights like these, cold, steadying hands on his hips, stomach. The way Kakashi would put up with him on nights where he couldn’t do much but shake, the hair strokes and butterfly kisses. Not for the first time, Iruka wishes that he could call him (he could), that he could knock on Kakashi’s bedroom window and fall into his lap, crumble to pieces under his fingertips (he  _ definitely _ could, Kakashi would let him, even after all this time).

He carries the thought with him as his tea finishes brewing, as he stirs in a spoonful of honey. Iruka rummages through his schoolbag for a handful of pens, begrudgingly flips on the overhead kitchen light, blinking at the sudden fluorescence. The grading doesn’t take too long (for once), he’s been running out of papers (too many thoughts of ex-boyfriends, too many late night cups of tea) these past few weeks. The sun is nowhere near rising, his tea’s gone cold, it’s far too early for any normal person to be awake and functioning, which is why Iruka isn’t as surprised as he should be when there’s a knock on his kitchen window. Instead, he gets up with a sigh, opening the window with weary fingers, letting Kakashi tumble in, spilling onto his countertop. Iruka swallows his shock. “I thought you ‘professionals’ were supposed to be graceful.”

“I knew you’d be up.” Kakashi sits up, with that easy, forgiving smile, and -

And Iruka takes a step back, leaning against the counter. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Kakashi?”

He shrugs, languid and carefree (Iruka notices this with a pang of jealousy). “Isn’t it enough that I care about you?”

“Support your claim with evidence.”

Kakashi rolled his eyes. “My bad. I was bored.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“So?”

“My bad, forgot you don’t sleep.” Iruka glares at him, enough to keep the affection out of his voice.

“Now now.” He chides, face softening. “We both know that isn’t true.”

Iruka sighs. “What do you want? Tea? Closure?”

Kakashi gives him a puzzled look. “To talk, mostly. Can’t sleep.”

“So you came here?” Iruka runs a hand through his hair, exhaustion tugging at his fingers, the corners of his eyes.

“Where else?” 

Kakashi’s smile is weary, and just enough off-balance to make Iruka not think twice. “Sit down, I’ll make tea.”


End file.
